A Selection from the Lyrical Poems of Robert Herrick

254. AN ODE OF THE BIRTH OF OUR SAVIOUR

     In numbers, and but these few,
     I sing thy birth, oh JESU!
     Thou pretty Baby, born here,
     With sup'rabundant scorn here;
     Who for thy princely port here,
     Hadst for thy place
     Of birth, a base
     Out-stable for thy court here.

     Instead of neat enclosures
     Of interwoven osiers;
     Instead of fragrant posies
     Of daffadils and roses,
     Thy cradle, kingly stranger,
     As gospel tells,
     Was nothing else,
     But, here, a homely manger.

     But we with silks, not cruels,
     With sundry precious jewels,
     And lily-work will dress thee;
     And as we dispossess thee
     Of clouts, we'll make a chamber,
     Sweet babe, for thee,
     Of ivory,
     And plaster'd round with amber.

     The Jews, they did disdain thee;
     But we will entertain thee
     With glories to await here,
     Upon thy princely state here,
     And more for love than pity:
     From year to year
     We'll make thee, here,
     A free-born of our city.